A Reflection after reading Divya Poem — An Indian daughter Is pain pretending to be poetry. Divya S I am at that stage of life where I am continuously fighting a battle to be myself. So yes I am selfish. The mask of mother and wife tires me sometimes. So whenever I am alone at home I…

A Poetic Essay about Paintings — “Even perfection is a myth. There is no evidence of a perfect world, a perfect man or a perfect family anywhere on earth. Perfection, be it Rama Rajya or Camelot, exists only in mythology. Yet everyone craves for it. This craving inspires art, establishes empires, sparks revolutions and motivates leaders…

A Prose on Writing Life — I let the poem tell me what it wanted. I let it have its way with me. Maybe I encouraged it? When one has gone into a wishing silence, one doesn’t know what wish will come to fill it. — D. A. Powell When you read something and it answers…

A reflection about a controversy which I fail to understand — Celebration of any festival is not bound by words. A language is supposed to be free then only you will be able to read real poetry. We need to grow our heart specially when it comes to language. …

A Poem about the Blue Colour —

A Poem about The New World — हम सोचते है कौन रोयेगा हमारे जाने के बाद पर अभी जब हम है मुद्दते बीत जाती है सिर्फ़ इस इंतज़ार में की कोई पूछे हमारा भी हाल कोई लिखे वो चिट्ठी जो हम ख़ुद को लिखते है हर रात। कोई करे यू ही फ़ोन बिना किसी काम से कोई फिर…

A Note for My Son — Dear Advay, After a long time I found a book which I think you will love sometime later. The book is Everything Else is Bric-a-Brac. The book is written by Akiko Busch. Whenever I am in the library it’s the non fiction section which pulls me. This book has essays…

A Letter — heartbreak doesn’t always has to be about love sometimes it’s an emotion which you feel for the country which is in you. heartbreak doesn’t always has to be defined it’s a grief which you can’t express the only question with you? why? Dear Advay, You were sad while watching the match…

A poem about memories — Some times I wonder what is louder? the raindrops plattering against the window, the coffee quietly dripping through the filter or my thoughts churning again and again while I am cooking. I long for that quiet which I once had when the landline would ring occasionaly, when the postman would slide…